• raghavendran 5w

    To the Waiting Groom

    To the Waiting Bridegroom

    The scenario and the activities spoken about relate mostly to the northern states of India where the practice is still prevalent. There had been several cases where, in the uncontrolled jubilation during wedding activities, people participating in the function had been killed by fatal gun shots which sometimes claim the life of the bridegroom himself. Shooting with guns is a very common occurrence during the wedding procession.

    If people want to express their joy, there are various means other than using firearms. The situation becomes worse when most people in the procession are inebriated to the extent they have no control over their limbs or brain and most of them wield firearms, many of them manufactured illegally, locally and in an unscientific manner.

    This poem is written to highlight the issue and say that this practice should be buried deep, in the interest of people who gather to celebrate an occasion when one is about to begin a new life as a responsible husband.


    My dear lad, you look grand
    With a face so charming,
    You seem no less than a prince
    Riding his caparisoned horse
    With a sword dangling by his side
    And a dazzling crown in consort.

    You are poised to embark
    On a new journey
    With the one chosen for you
    And whom your heart
    Has gladly chosen too.

    This is a solemn occasion
    Which everyone is waiting for
    To celebrate together;
    You're the cynosure now
    Of all those around you,
    You're like the sun
    Around whom the planets
    Keep circling about.

    I don't have to remind you
    That this is an occasion
    To celebrate and share the joy
    Solely on your account.

    In just a few minutes,
    You'll be astride the horse
    Decked to suit the occasion,
    With the brass band playing
    And the crowd of people
    Dancing in gay abandon.

    But here is an advice from one
    Who has seen the world:
    Don't give in to the crowd
    Who goad you to drink;
    If you by chance don't decline
    Believe my words, my dear,
    You are bidding "Bye"
    To sanity and decorum.

    Don't become the laughing stock
    Of all those who love you,
    For you'll not be yourself
    Once the "liquid" finds its way
    To your innards
    And turns your head
    To actions so unseemly;
    Pray do not embarrass
    The gentle folk and women,
    The eligible lasses
    And the sweet children,
    And turn their faces
    To a blushing crimson.

    Put your foot down
    With a stern warning
    To those around you
    That it's sacrilege
    To mar the occasion
    Which is meant
    To spread joy and warmth
    Between the families
    Of the bride and the groom.

    Let no one go berserk-
    (The trigger-happy guys)
    And shoot at random
    From their weapons-
    Licenced or otherwise-
    In drunken delirium.

    Many joyous occasions
    Had turned into occasions
    Of unwanted mourning
    When the straying slugs
    Took someone's life-
    A tragedy waiting to happen
    When the loaded guns
    Are in the hands
    Of tipsy men without control
    Of their senses and bearing.

    Pay heed to the sane words
    And mount the horse
    In full control of yourself
    To be received
    With pomp and ceremony.

    Let your journey
    Into a new life
    Begin with joy
    And blessings
    From those who love you
    And whom you love too.


    Raghav R
    15 July 2019
    ©raghavendran